


don't come, the dawn

by tigerlo



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst with a very healthy helping of Smut, Canon Compliant, Depending on what happens tomorrow, F/F, Missing Scene, in theory anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 14:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14262975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlo/pseuds/tigerlo
Summary: Charity can’t offer Vanessa much, she knows this.But she can offer her something.Something that mightjustbe enough.(Takes place following the 30th March episode, after Vanessa is struck off)





	don't come, the dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try and post this before the episode tomorrow, in the event that everything I've dreamed up here is totally railroaded by canon. 
> 
> There isn't a lot to this, it's mostly physical with a dash of emotion tbh. It's a bit of an exploration of what's going on in Charity's head as they both try and grapple with what the hell Vanessa is going to do now, but honestly, it's mainly about comfort, and that sometimes the only thing you can offer the person you love, is an escape, for a bit.
> 
> x

 

-

  
  


They’re the only ones left in the pub now, she and Vanessa, the others having long since left Vanessa to her misery, to her despair, to her apparent desperate need to find the bottom of this bottle and forget everything around her. 

 

Charity’s not sure what to do. For the first time in her life she’s not bloody sure what to do, whether she should offer Vanessa cynicism or softness - her own brand of it, anyway. 

 

Because she’s been there, where Vanessa thinks she is now, rock-bottom with nowhere to go but a happy land of slurred words and a roaring headache in the morning, lingering only for as long as it took to get hammered again. 

 

She turns around and flicks the radio on behind the bar while she’s trying to decide, while she’s waiting for Vanessa to give her some sort of clue as to what the hell to do. It’s an old habit, filling the silence as she makes a half-hearted attempt to clean that Chas will just berate her for in the morning, but there’s something about the routine that calms her a little. 

 

Turning around, she catches the last hint of something sickeningly familiar —desperately hidden despair— that Vanessa tries to hide the second Charity turns to face her, that finally gives Charity her heading, and sets her on her course. Because she knows what that tastes like in the back of her throat, thick and metallic and vile, and she knows that no one as good as Vanessa Woodfield should ever have to. 

 

Kindness it is, then. 

 

“Come on, babe,” Charity says quietly, like she’s seen Vanessa talk to Johnny when he’s upset, trying to emulate the way Vanessa’s whole body softens when she does. 

 

It’s getting easier to do this whole  _ nice _ thing, and it’s about as natural to her as eating chalk is when it’s towards other people, but with Vanessa it flows as easily as the snide remarks normally do. Vanessa makes her kinder, Charity knows she does, and she’s always thought she’d hate anyone with that kind of power or influence over her, but Vanessa is different, she’s an exception, in so many surprisingly beautiful ways. 

 

She reaches for the bottle still loosely held in Vanessa’s hand, slowly, waiting to pull it away until she knows Vanessa will be distracted by her enough not to notice. 

 

She can’t offer Vanessa much, she knows this. But she can offer her something. Something that might  _ just _ be enough. 

 

Vanessa drops her head into her hands, her gaze firmly on the bar before she mumbles a reply, resolutely not looking up - Charity thinks to be able to prolong her suffering a little longer. “I don’t want to leave yet.”

 

“Why not?” Charity asks and her voice comes out so much softer than she had planned, spilling over her lips like honey. 

 

Vanessa looks up at that, her eyes wide at Charity’s tone, surprised by it, taken aback even, and Charity knows in an instant that she made the right call, because Vanessa’s shoulders sag in the way that Charity has come to recognise always precedes a confession or admission. 

 

“Because then this will actually be real,” Vanessa gives up, folding in on herself. “Here, I can pretend I actually still have a job to go to tomorrow, and I just came to pick you up to take you back to mine.”

 

“Well, you know how I feel about the odd spot of role-playing, babe. There’s nothing stopping us going back and playing vets at yours, is there? Your dad’s got Johnny?” Charity says in an attempt at humour, raising her eyebrows, waiting for a smile or smirk or something in return, but all she gets is a scowl. 

 

“Can’t I just stay here and get drunk, instead?” Vanessa says, reaching for the bottle that Charity snatches away just in time. 

 

“You want to stay in this dingy pub when you could come home and have me to yourself all evening?” Charity offers, and she knows that Vanessa can hear what she’s not saying between her words. 

 

That she’s saying  _ I’ll give you  _ **_me_ ** _.  _ That she’s saying _ I’ll give you my time.  I’ll give you everything I can, I’ll even try and pull the stupid moon down if it’ll make you smile just once. _ That she’s  _ trying _ . 

 

“Come on, Ness.  _ Please _ .”

 

She can’t even remember the last person she said  _ please _ to and meant it before she started things with Vanessa, she doesn’t think she’s said it as much in her whole life as she has these past few months. She used to think it was a weakness, asking something from another person like that, but she’s starting to think there’s a strength to be found in it, instead. Some bond to be found by the right person giving you what you ask for. 

 

And it’s exactly that, she doesn’t lose anything when she shows Vanessa these small moments of gentility, when she drops her armour. She gains something, instead, in a way that she never has before. 

 

_ Please _ has always been a dirty word to her, whispered into a void as men took what they thought they paid for, or uttered sometimes because they demanded it of her. She’s never liked it, had loathed it in fact, before Vanessa gave it a new meaning. 

 

She’s looking at Charity now almost like she’s seeing Charity for the first time, and Charity takes the momentum, she takes the fact that Vanessa’s on a knife-edge waiting for her next word, and pushes them both forward. 

 

“Let me take you home,” she says simply, as gently as she can, and she could almost cry for no bloody reason other than joy when she sees the look in Vanessa’s face turn to resigned acceptance. 

 

“Fine,” Vanessa says moodily, sliding off her stool to stand but it’s a triumph for Charity, and she tries and fails to smother a smirk at her success, because she’s never won anything in her life, not properly, but Vanessa makes her feel victorious without even handing her a prize.

 

Vanessa’s hand slides into Charity’s easily when Charity walks out from behind the bar to meet her, like they’ve been doing this dance for twenty years, flicking the lights off for Charity on their way out the door. 

 

“You have to make the first brew though.”

  
  


-

  
  


The walk to Tug Ghyll doesn’t take long, and Charity pulls her key to the house out of her pocket on the way there, in anticipation of taking the chore from Vanessa’s shaking hand, currently clasped tight in her own. 

 

Her pocket is where the key lives now, so she can run her thumb over it again and again while she’s working, thinking -no,  _ dreaming- _ about making her way to Vanessa, waiting in bed for her, as soon as Chas is distracted enough and Charity can slip away. 

 

She lets go of Vanessa’s hand for just a second, to fight with the end of her scarf when the wind whips it just as she raises the key to the door, but she pauses when she clicks the lock open, because Vanessa’s presence at her back is missing. 

 

Charity turns to see Vanessa standing stopped-still exactly where she had let go of her hand, a few feet away, looking over Charity’s shoulder and towards the house with as much fear as if there were a slobbering pit bull in the doorway, in place of thin air. 

 

Charity doesn’t speak for a second, biting her tongue instead, because she can see Vanessa on the verge of saying something as her gaze flicks from Charity to the not-yet-open door. 

 

“How do I make it stop?” Vanessa asks quietly, looking as small as Charity has ever seen her, in the dull light of the moon. 

 

“How do you make what stop, babe?” Charity questions in reply, her brow creasing in a frown, taking one slow step towards Vanessa, resisting the urge to just reach for her. 

 

“Feeling like I’m the worst person in the world,” Vanessa answers softly, and Charity thinks she sees Vanessa’s hand twitch like she wants to reach for Charity, too. 

 

“Oh,  _ Ness _ ,” Charity replies slowly, her old, cold heart breaking and her breath aching as Vanessa crumbles in front of her. 

 

It’s easy to take two quick steps towards Vanessa, to pull her tight, to hold her as close as Charity possibly can, so nothing in this big, wide, horrible world can come between them or cause Vanessa any more pain, it’s  _ so _ easy, and Charity wonders as Vanessa’s arms wrap around her waist, when the  _ hell _ she became the kind of person that wanted something like that. 

 

“You’re the furthest thing from it, love,” Charity coos, barely recognising the softness of her own voice, whispering into Vanessa’s hair. “You’re the furthest bloody thing from it.”

 

Vanessa makes some kind of noise or hiccup against her, and Charity draws away to make sure she isn’t about to drown in her own tears, wiping away a stray drop with her thumb, and it’s a terrible thing to notice, but Vanessa looks  _ devastatingly _ gorgeous when she’s distraught, the red of her eyes bringing the blue out in a way that makes Charity’s heart swoop low in her chest.

 

(It makes her  _ want _ Vanessa too - something terrible - seeing her like this. So open.  _ So _ vulnerable)

 

She casts a quick look around, making sure no one's peering out between their curtains, because the last thing she needs is some busybody coming out to make sure she’s not the cause of Vanessa’s tears, but the road is blissfully empty, and it’s selfish —she knows it is at least, she’s not obtuse— but Charity relishes it for a moment, being the only one able to offer Vanessa comfort, before she realises with a jolt, that actually, she is. 

 

Because everyone in the pub had tried to offer her sympathy or condolence, but Vanessa hadn’t been interested in a drop of any of that from any of them. Maybe it’s just that the booze has worn her down, and that’s why she’s accepting it now, that’s why she’s  _ breaking _ now, but maybe it’s for an entirely different reason altogether. 

 

Maybe it’s because she only wanted to come apart to Charity. 

 

She’s not sure when the last time someone trusted her with a thing like that was. Her kids offer it blindly, their vulnerability, because they don’t know any better, like Deb does now. People have trusted her with their darkest secrets, and their most depraved desires too, but she doesn’t ever think anyone has ever trusted her with simple comfort. 

 

Charity’s always been the kind of woman to store away small things like this, too, bullets for a gun she might not even own yet, but she realises as Vanessa clings to her hand like it’s a lifeline, that she doesn’t want that anymore, to build a stockpile of ammunition - well, with Vanessa at least. 

 

“Do you wanna know what I used to do, when it all got to be too much?” Charity asks, tugging on Vanessa’s hand so she moves a little closer. 

 

Vanessa nods, she doesn’t speak, but Charity doesn’t mind. Vanessa’s always told her more with the lines of her body, anyway. 

 

“I’d run myself the hottest bath I could stand, if I had one at the time, or I could find one, and I’d lie under the water until I couldn’t breathe,” Charity says, and as she does so, she realises it’s the first time she’s ever given this secret air. 

 

She can see something flash across Vanessa’s face, almost pity, only it’s not, because Vanessa’s always been so careful not to offer her that, before she continues. 

 

“I used to lie under the water until the only thing I could think about was how much I needed air,” Charity says, ignoring the way the wind whips her hair into her eyes, only focussed on Vanessa and that bright,  _ bright _ blue. “Until I couldn’t remember what his name was, or what mine was, neither. Until I could ignore everything in my shitty life, except the fact that I was desperate for breath.”

 

Her ghosts linger in the shadows as she speaks, waiting for her to beckon them in, waiting for her to break, and she never used to be able to beat them back for long, they’d overwhelm her as soon as she tried to close her eyes and sleep, but it’s been different lately, because without her even realising, Vanessa has become a light. 

 

She holds them back without meaning to, with the soft scowl she throws Charity when she says something daft, or with the trill of her laugh, or the weight of her hand in Charity’s own, long enough for Charity to find rest. 

 

“I might not have a bath,” Charity offers, pulling Vanessa close enough that their jackets rustle against each other. “And I might not be able to wave a stupid magic wand, but I can be your water. I can make you forget, Ness, if you’d like.”

  
  


-

  
  


She’s barely contained tonight, Vanessa is, almost lust incarnate, her hands already pulling layers loose when she backs Charity up against the door outside and kisses her  _ hard _ , knocking the air from her lungs. 

 

Charity can see the animal straining against her skin, can see it in Vanessa’s eyes, ready to claw its way out of her and set itself against Charity’s bare flesh, and it makes her hot, just to see it, it makes her  _ hungry _ , and she kicks the unlocked door open behind her with one heavily placed boot to take this inside. 

 

Vanessa’s hands are already peeling her jacket from her shoulders, and her blazer, shoving both down Charity’s arms so she has free reign to pull the shirt out of Charity’s trousers. 

 

She smiles when Vanessa’s hands brush over the bare skin of her stomach in their haste to pull her shirt free, because she knows this well, this desperation, she speaks it fluently in fact, has done so before she was barely old enough to know what the word even meant. 

 

To say she’d been utterly surprised to find a wildness to Vanessa Woodfield would be the understatement of the year, because she’d always assumed a boring primness present in watching Vanessa the few times she’d seen her in the pub prior to that night in the cellar, had only kissed her for the fun of it, really. Because she’d been bored, and curious, to see if she was as dull as Charity had assumed, but she hadn’t been that at all. 

 

Once the shock wore off and unexpected buzz had retreated from Charity’s lips, Vanessa had kissed Charity back firmly, with purpose, pushing her back against the opposite arm of that horrible little sofa, until the reality of what she’d just done had settled across Vanessa’s face. 

 

Charity hadn’t given her the opportunity to let that dirty realisation spoil her fun, though. To let Vanessa withdraw back into herself. She’d slid her hand over Vanessa’s shoulder instead, around the back of her neck and into her hair, whispered  _ for god's sake, babe, don’t stop now,  _ and pulled Vanessa back in. 

 

It’s a delight actually, the things Vanessa is capable of. How much she will give, and how much she will take, too. 

 

Vanessa starts pulling at her own clothes halfway through their next bruising kiss as the door slams behind them, and it’s then that Charity decides to turn the tables on Vanessa’s apparent quest to do this all on her merry-own. She catches Vanessa’s wrists, bringing them up into the space between their bodies and takes two quick steps back, pushing Vanessa back against whatever wall is nearest to them. 

 

“Oi, don’t think you can pinch all the fun bits,” Charity says, smirking dangerously as she drops Vanessa’s hands unceremoniously and begins to pick at Vanessa’s clothes, pulling her top from her skirt slowly, pushing Vanessa’s jacket off with a teasing lack of haste. 

 

It’ll drive Vanessa mad, Charity knows it will, her slowing things down, but it’s good, it’s what she wants, for the only thing in Vanessa’s head to be just how much she wants Charity to touch her, and nothing else. 

 

The coat drops to the floor and Charity picks up the hem of Vanessa’s disgustingly cute sweater, moving her hands so they can run up Vanessa’s stomach, pushing the piece of clothing up as she goes. Her thumbs meet the fabric of Vanessa’s bra before Charity looks up at her, almost moaning at how black Vanessa’s eyes are now. 

 

It’s another thing that Charity adores about her, about being with her: Vanessa is so responsive, so verbal, it's so easy to see how much Vanessa wants her, it’s so easy to see exactly how much she’s making Vanessa feel, and it’s hard not to be utterly swept up in it. 

 

She tugs the top off when Vanessa raises her arms in the air, making sure to brush heavily over the more sensitive part of Vanessa’s breast in the process, smirking at the way it makes her buckle beneath Charity’s touch. 

 

She takes a step back to look at her masterpiece, at Vanessa, stripped almost bare, breathing heavily in only a bra and her skirt, leaning back against the wall with her back arched and her hips forward, not sure if she’s ever seen anything as beautiful. 

 

“ _ Well _ , don’t you look a treat,” Charity purrs, stepping forward, placing her hands on the wall either side of Vanessa’s head. The movement is cocky, and she watches Vanessa’s eyes flash because she likes Charity like this, Charity  _ knows _ she does. 

 

She grins as Vanessa’s hands fist in her shirt to pull her forward, bringing their hips crashing together, and she tries to bring Charity down for a kiss, but Charity pulls her lips away at the very last second, grinning deeper when Vanessa growls in response. 

 

“Charity,” Vanessa groans, exasperated, her hands flexing in the fabric beneath them, the desperation clear in her tone, and Charity’s heart thumps in her chest because she might just get Vanessa to beg tonight, if she plays her cards right. 

 

“ _ Patience _ , babe,” Charity says, her voice high in reply, almost a reprimand, intentionally, because it makes Vanessa bristle just a bit. Just enough to make it all the more satisfying when Charity does lean in. 

 

She slides her tongue against Vanessa’s, hot and wet, starving, moaning into Vanessa’s mouth when she feels the hands that were in her shirt move into her hair and tighten, and it hurts enough to make her hiss, it hurts enough that she can’t resist biting Vanessa’s lip less than gently when they separate, in reply. 

 

“It’s a virtue, didn’t you know?” Charity speaks against Vanessa’s cheek, dropping one of the hands currently against the wall to run a terribly light touch up the inside of Vanessa’s thigh, pulling her skirt up as it moves. 

 

She can feel Vanessa open her mouth to speak but Charity kisses her instead, because she knows the irony of the statement - a lesson in virtue from Charity Dingle - is something most people would laugh at, and while she doesn’t think Vanessa is callous enough to mention it, even when she’s reckless like she is now, she doesn’t want to take the risk. 

 

Charity takes her hand back just before her fingertips reach anywhere that might offer Vanessa some relief though, and Vanessa makes a beautifully impatient noise when she does, trying to chase the touch with her hips, but Charity isn’t having any of it. Tonight is on her terms, it has to be, it’s the only way Vanessa will properly let go to the point she needs to in order to find some broken kind of peace - if she’s  _ not _ in charge. 

 

“Good things come to those who wait,  _ Vanessa _ ,” Charity offers, pushing Vanessa’s hips back against the wall with a firm hand, a non-verbal order, smiling when Vanessa shudders beneath the timbre of her voice and the use of her name. “You must know that, surely.”

 

Charity’s hand moves at the last syllable, from Vanessa’s hip, trailing a touch along the edge of her skirt where it meets skin, across the front of her stomach, and she can feel how tightly Vanessa’s whole body is tensed, a whine captured between her teeth. 

 

“I need—“ Vanessa utters desperately, half-writhing against the wall when Charity’s fingers dance and land just below her bellybutton, slipping beneath the waistband an inch, and Charity smiles against her lips. 

 

“I know you do, babe,” Charity replies, drawing back so she can meet Vanessa’s eyes, because she wants to see when moves her hand under fabric against skin, she wants to watch when she finally gives Vanessa what she craves. “I know you do.”

 

And there’s a layering to her words there that she’s not sure if Vanessa catches, as lost to her baser needs as she is, but Charity means it regardless, in a way that she’s not sure she’s ever meant before. Because she knows Vanessa needs gratification, she knows that she needs Charity to give in and give up what she wants, but she knows what Vanessa needs beyond that, as only someone who’s found rock bottom knows.

 

Consolation. Affirmation. To feel validated. To feel wanted. To feel needed. 

 

Because that’s something else Charity has always craved, to feel wanted, beyond a quick fuck in an alleyway. To be needed for something more than that too. 

 

She wonders if Vanessa knows that she gives Charity both of those things without even meaning to. She wonders if Vanessa knows that she loves her for it. 

 

Vanessa  _ sighs _ when Charity finally moves against her, when Charity finally slides beneath all the bloody layers getting in her way, when Charity finally touches her, and Charity has to hold back a weak noise of her own when she feels how  _ wet _ Vanessa is. 

 

“Oh,  _ Ness _ ,” Charity breathes, dropping her forehead against Vanessa’s moving her hand, spreading Vanessa’s arousal with her fingertips, as much as the tightness of her skirt will allow. 

 

Vanessa clings to her when Charity starts drawing lazy circles over her core, her hands moving from against Charity’s scalp to her shoulders, nails scratching as much as the fabric of her shirt will allow before they slip beneath it at the nape of her neck. Vanessa’s hands skirt around to the front, hungry for more bare skin, and they begin plucking clumsily at the buttons before Charity whispers - no  _ husks _ \- in her ear. 

 

“Just rip it,” Charity says carelessly, surprised by how rough her own voice sounds, and just how much she’s hungry for Vanessa’s touch against her skin, too.  

 

“Are you—“ Vanessa’s broken reply comes before Charity takes her earlobe between her teeth, pulling teasingly until Vanessa moans and cuts herself off. 

 

“ _ Yes _ , babe,” Charity hisses, more than a little happy with herself at the way Vanessa trembles against her hand when she does so. “We can buy another bloody shirt.”

 

A rumble like a growl issues from Vanessa as her hands close on either side of the shirt and pull, hard, scattering the buttons over the floor before she pushes the ruined fabric roughly off Charity’s shoulders. There’s something liberating about uncaging the animal in Vanessa, or maybe it's relief, or pleasure, that something this ravenous exists in other people, too. Whatever it is, it makes Charity hopelessly aware of how insistent her own need is becoming, pooling between her thighs the wetter she feels Vanessa become against her hand. 

 

It’s not helped at all when Vanessa closes her mouth around the rise of Charity’s now partially exposed breast, one of her hands palming the other roughly, her mouth and touch greedy. It’s enough that Charity catches her wrist to stop her when Vanessa tries to nudge the fabric of Charity’s bra aside, pinning it to the wall beside Vanessa’s head. 

 

“Hands off,” Charity smirks, shaking her head when Vanessa tries to free her hand. “I can’t flamin’ think when you’re touching me too.”

 

“But—“ Vanessa tries to breathe, but Charity swallows the objection, sliding her hand down further, teasing at the source of Vanessa’s desire, and she feels Vanessa’s knees falter. 

 

“Later, babe,” Charity purrs, finally pushing into Vanessa with an achingly slow pace, almost losing her own coherency when she feels Vanessa tense and pull desperately around her fingers, hungry,  _ always _ hungry. 

 

And it might be fun, to get off at the same time, but Charity wants to do a proper job of this, she wants to drive Vanessa to a point of almost madness, and there’s no way she’ll be able to keep her mind enough to do that if Vanessa is touching her, too. 

 

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm once she begins, only hampered by how tight Vanessa’s skirt is - she never thought she’d be complaining about that - and she knows it’s too slow, Vanessa’s telling her that with every inch of her body, with her exasperated sighs and the way she’s about to draw blood biting her own lip, but Charity doesn’t care. Vanessa’s so close to the peak of her desperation now, she’s so close to letting go, and Charity’s not going to give in until she does. 

 

She’s going to have scratches over most of her body tomorrow, Vanessa’s hands running over the bare skin of her back once the shirt is lying in tatters in the floor, but she doesn’t care about that either. She’ll wear them with pride like she always has, these maybe the proudest of them all, because these are Vanessa’s, these are a sign that Vanessa chose her, that Vanessa wants her, that Vanessa hasn’t given up on her, that Vanessa is still in her bed, and no one else’s. 

 

Vanessa’s almost whining now, as Charity slows the thrusts of her hand to an almost standstill, her breath strained and the muscles in her stomach tensed, and then she begs, finally, she begs, and Charity knows that she’s almost held out long enough. 

 

“Please, Charity,” Vanessa sighs, her eyes opening to find Charity’s, the blue almost like ice, her brow furrowed and her tone weak and broken, like she’s begging for her life, and not only her release. “ _ Please _ .”

 

The sound of the last syllable rings in Charity’s ears, it sinks into her skin, filling her with a power she knows the high of well, taken from faceless men, and women too, only it’s so different when it’s given to her by someone as pure as Vanessa, it’s monumental the significance, in comparison.  

 

“Tell me what you want, Vanessa,” Charity breathes, her hands heavy with power. 

 

“You,” she says instantly, desperately, scrambling to pay whatever tariff Charity is holding back for. “I want you, Charity.”

 

“This doesn’t change anything, Ness,” Charity says, when she knows Vanessa is hanging her breath on every move she makes, because she wants Vanessa to know this, because she doesn’t ever want Vanessa to feel as hopeless as she has been, she doesn’t  _ ever _ want that. “Listen to me, alright, babe. This doesn’t change anything. Whether you’ve got a bloody job or not, whether you think you’re the worst person in the world or not. Whether you hate me, or not. I’ll always be the water. Tell me you understand.”

 

She’s not sure where the words even come from, but she knows she means them. She knows she’ll want this long after Vanessa might be done with her if she ever leaves - because it’s an  _ if _ now, not a  _ when _ \- and she doesn’t know when that happened, neither. 

 

She knows that she’ll want this, the honey soft taste of Vanessa’s skin, for the rest of her life, and knows she’ll want it whether Vanessa can stand the sight of her or not. Because there’s a cleanness to Vanessa’s touch that makes her feel less marred by her own dirt and scars, there’s a lightness that sears old wounds shut that’s addictive, it’s a drug, to feel like someone without a damaged soul. To feel  _ free _ , for the first time in a very long time. 

 

“I—“ Vanessa falters, so Charity gives her an incentive, she pushes in with three fingers and watches Vanessa’s pupils blow. 

 

“Tell me you understand, babe,” Charity replies, insistent, holding back the next thrust, and her voice is close to begging now too, because she needs this as much as Vanessa does. 

 

She needs some assurance that even if she loses Vanessa, she won’t completely. That even if Vanessa takes the warmth from her bed, she might not be gone forever. That even if Vanessa  _ hates _ her, body and soul, she might come back for what Charity can make her feel. 

 

“I understand,” Vanessa says, pulling Charity close enough that she thinks maybe she can hear Vanessa’s heartbeat against her own. 

 

There’s a clean desperation in Vanessa’s kiss that gives Charity everything her body is waiting for, something like a promise, something like a plea of her own, and Charity’s heart aches with it, her whole body does, over the shadow of every touch she never wanted on her skin, over the louder, more traitorous thought of,  _ you could have had this instead, you fool, you could have had this instead of so much pain if you’d looked hard enough _ . 

 

Vanessa’s hand is tight in the hair at the back of her head, holding their foreheads together, clinging to her like she’ll dissolve into nothing if Charity lets go, but she won’t, she won’t, she needs Vanessa to know that she won’t, so finally, finally, she gives in. 

 

She twists her head, catches Vanessa’s lips, picking up a quick and punishing pace as she starts to fuck Vanessa relentlessly, because she knows it’s what Vanessa wants. She knows it’s what Vanessa needs. 

 

There’s a heat building between them, half clothed as they still are, and Charity wants nothing more than to take Vanessa upstairs and have her way again with room to move, laid out on the bed like an offering to the gods, because Vanessa’s hands balled in her sheets, writhing beneath her touch is something she’ll carry with her to the grave, but there’s a charm to this too - to fucking Vanessa Woodfield inside her front door because neither of them could bear to wait to take a few bloody steps to the couch - that makes her stay right where she is. 

 

“Oh god, I—“ Vanessa tries, but it’s no use, talking that is, because Charity just drives harder, until Vanessa can’t speak, until she can’t do a single thing except focus on how close she is to coming to pieces. 

 

“I know, babe,” Charity whispers, half-smug, half-relieved at the way Vanessa’s head falls back against the wall roughly, completely overwhelmed by her, by what Charity’s making her feel. “I know.”

 

There’s a sharp ache in her forearm, her muscles burning with the exertion, but it doesn’t matter, nothing does, nothing but the way Vanessa’s eyes keep fluttering open and closed and her hips move in perfect sync with Charity’s hand. It feels like the world could come to pieces around them, crumbling into rubble at their feet, and they’d barely bat an eyelash, and Charity knows it would take something of that magnitude to tear her away from her goal now, too. 

 

Because Vanessa is like velvet around her fingers, soft and smooth, and Charity feels like a god, commanding her every move, tearing moan after moan from Vanessa’s lungs, more and more uncontrolled and volatile, until she pushes herself, pushes Vanessa finally….finally…. _ finally _ ….over the edge. 

 

Vanessa isn’t quiet in bed, not when she doesn’t have to be, but the force of her orgasm robs her voice of noise, so when she comes, she does so hard, almost violently, and she doesn’t make a sound. 

 

Charity’s seen a lot of people at this end of the world, far more than she likes to think about, only they’re clawing their pleasure from her normally, not bowing beneath her for it, but she doesn’t think any of them have ever looked as beautiful Vanessa does right now. 

 

A fresh blush breaks out over her neck as the blood lifts to the surface of her skin, her back curving like a dancer’s against the hard unforgiving wall, and she tenses around Charity’s fingers, clutching at her, trying to hold onto the sensation as Charity draws out Vanessa’s pleasure, delaying the crash to follow its retreat, as long as she possibly can.

 

Because she knows what comes after tonight, she knows the harsh light of the day will find them eventually, but she’ll be damned if the cold hands of reality find Vanessa tonight. She won’t have it. She  _ won’t _ .

 

Charity moves closer to Vanessa as she feels the shocks that rock Vanessa’s frame start to ease - as the fluttering around her fingers starts to fade, and Vanessa can finally draw in a breath - a fierceness descends on her that she doesn’t think she’s ever felt before, not even towards the children of her own body, because she doesn’t want the cruel air to find Vanessa now. She wants to keep her warm. She wants to keep her distracted. 

 

“Come upstairs with me, Ness,” Charity purrs, drawing her touch, warm and sticky and sweet, from between Vanessa’s thighs in a way that makes Vanessa chase it. 

 

Vanessa nods, her eyes vacant, looking into Charity, not simply  _ at _ her in a way so reminiscent of the moments that preceded their very first time together that it almost makes Charity do a double take, to look around for a ghost, but Vanessa doesn’t give her the time to indulge in nostalgia. 

 

She kisses Charity deeply instead, her tongue greedy, her hands sliding around Charity’s shoulders to bring them close, stomach to stomach and chest to chest, and Charity can feel something that had been so foreign in the beginning, in the way that Vanessa’s heart pounds against her own.  Gratitude. Soft relief. A flood of something kind and genuine and gentle and sweet. 

 

“I’m not ready to remember,” Vanessa says with tears in her eyes, shaking her head against Charity’s, the anguish scattered through her words like the light of already-dead stars amidst the hopeless black of night. 

 

Charity can feel the curved imprint of Vanessa’s nails leaving their mark between her shoulder blades, clinging to her,  _ needing _ her, and she welcomes them like she does all her other scars. 

 

They’re proof of her survival, after all. 

 

They’re proof that nothing’s killed her. Yet. 

 

“I know, babe,” Charity says again, nodding, as Vanessa’s pain burns viscously in her chest like it’s her own, the tip of her nose brushing against Vanessa’s cheek, closing her eyes against the peace it brings like some love-sick fool. 

 

Like the love-sick fool that she  _ is _ . 

 

“I  _ know _ . So let me help you  _ forget _ .”

  
  


-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the person/persons who gave me a drop of confidence to post a bit more in this space. You're the bomb-diggity.
> 
> I hope this was a good little read btw, I've got a [tumblr](http://tigerlo.tumblr.com) if you want to pop by and say hi there at all, too. 
> 
> x


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